Keep Fighting

Just something that came to me the other day.

Locked in a room,
dark and cold,
strapped to chair
and unable to move.

Begging for help
for some one to
hear my cries
before they are silenced.

Fists slamming into me
making breathing a struggle.
Demands are being made
for something that I don't have.

Blood dripping from my
forehead and lips,
from my wrists where
I've been tied to a chair.

Dizzy and tired, I feel
no longer attached.
I could give up
and fall into the abyss.

Let it all go
let them win,
die and sleep
without dreams.

Too bad I'm a fighter.
I can't just let go,
as much as I would
love to do just that.

I'll fight and breathe
until there is nothing
left of me but
bones and sludge.

Reviews

[misha]

Such a strong piece. Great job!